Before The Silence
by x.Lady.Midnight.x
Summary: Drabbles following Hannibal; from beginning to finale, as we currently know it. I take the characters, and among them I throw in Will's younger sister Annabel. I can't help but think that Hannibal's efforts may have been divided between the siblings, lending chance to opportunity, for more twisted, and disturbing manipulations. This is not a love story. It is something much darker.
1. Spirited

***I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I want it known this won't be a fluffy tale either. Hannibal and fluff just don't mesh well in my eyes. Anyway enjoy. Thoughts and ideas are always welcome, good or bad. Bon appetite.**

**~ Before The Silence ~**

Hannibal was undecided about special agent Jack Crawford. The man was aggressive and egotistical in his own right, but he seemed to also hide a concealed manipulative nature, something that Hannibal knows his own self is guilty of. Though he was certain Jack Crawford did not view it as a sport so much, than as a weapon, the good doctor found himself curious of the man's true nature; and to Hannibal, curiosity was a most addictive narcotic.

Perhaps this was why he had agreed to play babysitter to this interesting commodity, Jack and Alana had spoken of. Stories of Will Graham's gifts had reached Hannibal's ears, but he had yet the pleasure of seeing them in the flesh, a moment he was dubious of, if truth be told. Though he was surprised to find himself hoping.

Even now sat at Crawford's desk, in the middle of the FBI's behavioural unit, Hannibal found himself contemplating other opportunities from this chance meeting. His eyes wandered briefly to the ghosts upon the wall. Dead girls, considered merely '_missing'_ until their corpses were honourably unveiled. What _opportunities_ were _they_ presenting?

Jack Crawford, who had been talking quite contently with the good doctor, fell silent, a light, but authoritative knock at the door, the abrupt interruption that distracted from conversation. It swung open almost immediately, revealing a very annoyed, very pretty, young woman in it's wake. She stormed forward, a mass of long chocolate curls tangling irately around large eyes, and stomped straight up to the desk, apparently unfazed by the ego behind it.

Jack stared back evenly, clearly the girl's overly boorish entrance was not unexpected.

"Agent, this is a private meeting." He said, a glint of amusement hidden somewhere amongst the syllables. He clasped his hands together softly. "Actually, Anna, I was expecting your brother."

"Yes, I know you were." She answered heatedly, looking extremely unimpressed with the man in front of her. Her gaze faltered momentarily, something nagging obviously distracting her, and her heavy sapphires flickered anxiously down to Hannibal. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this. This really won't take a minute."

Hannibal smiled, standing politely from his seat – person suit fully tailored once more. "Not at all, Agent...?"

"Special Agent: Annabel Graham." She greeted him hurriedly, lightly shaking his hand. She spun back to Jack, a tailwind of curls. "I've been speaking to Alana. She told me that you've decided to put Will back out in the field permanently."

Crawford inclined his head. "I have."

Annabel ran a frustrated hand through her hair, obviously this wasn't the confirmation she'd wanted.

"It's not good for him, Jack." She warned evenly, all efforts going into keeping herself calm. "If it was, he'd be an agent by now."

"That is why I have asked Dr. Lecter to assist us, Annabel – at Alana's recommendation. He's to make sure that Will doesn't get in too close." Crawford assured her, flattening his hands to the desk.

But Annabel's attention had been momentarily grabbed. She stared at Hannibal.

"Dr Lecter?" She repeated, her eyes widening in bright recognition. She paused, before allowing a small shy smile to play lightly on her lips. "Dr _Hannibal_ Lecter?"

"Guilty, Special Agent Graham." He confessed warmly, flattery always being a welcomed sound to his ears.

Her smile widened. "I am a great fan of your work, doctor." She confessed smoothly, before once again returning her attention to Crawford. "I do hope you're not planning on having Dr Lecter _profile_ my brother, Jack."

"I need a better understanding of what I'm dealing with, Annabel." He argued, hoping for a release. When the girl still didn't look contented, Crawford rolled his dark orbs, apparently seeing that the subject wasn't about to be dropped lightly, and pressed himself further. "I need to make sure that Will is understood and under watch. That is what you want isn't it? To make sure your brother is safe guarded? Well, there you go."

"Don't you dare twist things." She snapped, her serene façade, failing her for a moment, before she hastily recomposed herself. She glanced awkwardly at the morbid images Hannibal's eyes had searched earlier, and her gaze dropped. "I don't want Will involved in this investigation, Jack. Its too much."

"Well, luckily for me, it doesn't matter what you _want_, Annabel. You are not Will's mother, and you are not _my_ boss. If having Will involved will save lives, then I am more than happy to have him, and that is the end of it."

The way Jack had spoken suggested an end to the subject, and Hannibal found himself sitting in quiet contemplation at the pair in front of him. Clearly Special Agent Graham cared a lot for her brother, a bond so tight, it appeared to verge on asphyxiating, and Jack Crawford's dismissive attitude was just another small piece of the puzzle, that now was slowly beginning to form a grand picture in the recesses of Hannibal's mind.

The hype of Will Graham, suddenly had Hannibal's interest perched even higher, and he took the moment to intervene.

"Special Agent Graham, – "

"Annabel, please." She insisted, her smile looking grim despite her efforts. She was no doubt sore from her recent loss. "Special Agent Graham, is such a mouthful."

"Annabel." Hannibal smiled, an image of ' Gigot a La Cuillère ' under candlelight, dancing temptingly across his mind, and he quickly gathered his thoughts back to the present. "I assure you, I will do everything within my power to keep your brother grounded. From what Jack has told me, he is a remarkable man. I promise you, I will treat him with the care he deserves."

She gazed up at him, her bright sapphires dimming to dark oceans, before she gave a brief but reluctant nod. "I appreciate that doctor, I do, but your ability and duty of care, are really not the issue." She sighed, shaking her head in defeat, and once again, darkened her knowing gaze toward a seemingly smug Jack Crawford. "This goes badly, Jack, they'll be hell to pay."

"It won't." He promised, sounding more irritated now, than sincere. "Now, don't you have a serial killer to catch, or do you want to wait here, and hold Will's hand?"

Neither the passive aggression, nor the mockery was missed by Annabel. Her eyebrow peaked coldly in response, and she lightly folded her arms across her chest, her mask of composure slowly beginning to crumble.

"Oh, I'm going. If you think I want to be here, when Will realises your profiling him, then you are mistaken." Her features warmed as she shook Hannibal's hand one final time, a flash of white brightening her pretty profile. "It really was a pleasure to meet you, doctor. Despite the circumstances we'll be in, I look forward to working with you."

With one final glare aimed at her boss, Annabel Graham, finally breezed back out the room. The smell of honey and ocean waves, lingering pleasantly in her wake, as heels and a mass of chocolate disappeared heatedly through the door, and out of sight.

Hannibal straightened his jacket, delicately smoothing down his cuffs, as he finally allowed himself to retake his seat.

"A spirited young woman." He commented, sending a curious look toward Jack. "Do you fight like that often?"

Crawford laughed heartily. "Only when she disagrees with me. _That,_" He began pointedly, brown wells clearly now following his underling's footsteps out the door. "Was less of an argument, and more of a debate. I never really know _which_ I'm going to get."

"Then she is difficult to predict?"

"That's one way of looking at it."

Hannibal pondered this, and wondered if perhaps he had been too rash in assuming boring simplicity with these people. Perhaps a better game could be found?

He contemplated this happily, and eagerly awaited the arrival of the sweet, yet infamous, Will Graham.

**Reviews and thoughts always appreciated.**


	2. Birds of a Feather

**~ Before The Silence ~**

The sun was low in the sky, making that unforgettable bloody canvas, you see when the night is carefully preparing for it's long entrance. Brother and sister sat together in perfect silence. Their figures perched obviously in front of a quaint wooden house, whilst the crickets sang their goodnight tune.

It was a normal evening.

"You shot, Garrett Jacob Hobbs." Annabel stated frankly, her eyes unseeing, as she sat rigidly upon the steps of her brother's home. "Do you think, it has affected you?"

Will glanced sidewards at his sister, his body language twisted in similar discomfort, though his was clearly far less controlled.

"Of course it has affected me." He grumbled, flinching like it was both the most obvious, and most shameful thing in the whole wide world.

Annabel nodded distantly, ringing her fingers tightly in her lap. "Then _how_ has it affected you?"

Will laughed once without humour. His features a pointless mask, he knew his sister would see straight through. Tittering, he briefly buried his face in his hands.

"Since when did the detective start playing psychoanalyst?" He scoffed.

A small smile rippled across her mouth, it was a pretty thing, loving, and she playfully ruffled her brother's tangled mass of locks.

"Around the same time the psychoanalyst picked up a gun, and started playing detective."

"You disapprove of Jack's choice, to bring me in on investigations." Will stated, his voice small, as he watched his furry family of strays, bound their way happily over the long coloured grass in front.

Fall would be over soon. Winter was coming.

"It's not that I disapprove." Annabel corrected kindly, carefully reaching behind to grab her large mug of coffee from the porch. She sipped, staring into it's dark abyss, as if it trying to foresee Will's future. When no such happening occurred, she sighed softly and confessed. "I just worry about you, Will."

"It's not your job to worry about me. _I'm_ the older sibling. Society dictates that I should be the one doing the worrying." He smiled a little, catching the nerve in his jaw. "_You're_ supposed to be the rebellious trouble maker."

She grinned, dropping her air of seriousness, and knocked her knee playfully into his leg. "You kidding? I'm a wild child these days. The other night, Beverly took me to one of these bar places, and I had a beer."

Will's mouth twitched. "Risky stuff."

"Indeed." Annabel giggled, happy that she had managed to melt the frown that had been permanently carved into her brother's rugged features since the Hobbs case.

It troubled her more than she cared to admit; a dull ache that refused to grant her peace, and things were only going to get worse.

Annabel knew that Will would feel some kind of duty towards Abigail Hobbs. After all, it was in his nature to care for strays, and to him, it was _his_ fault the girl was without a father, despite the circumstances of it being such. All he ever wanted to do was help people, yet Annabel knew it wouldn't be good for him to get too attached. Especially with Jack suggesting theories that involved Abigail in her father's murders.

No. Things definitely did not look good.

"Remember who you are, Will. That's all I ask." She murmured eventually, lightness gone from her voice, as the reality it all began to claw it's way viciously into her bones. "I can't lose you. It can't be like last time."

"I know who I am, Anna." Will promised.

Annabel just wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

**R&R if you could, please. Tiny thoughts. Tis all I ask. It would be the _polite_ thing to do ;)**

**~ LM xx**


	3. What Lies Beneath

**~ Before The Silence ~**

Hannibal's eyes scanned the page of the note book in front of him, his attention held solely by words of his own creation. The surface of Will Graham's mind was laid out before him in black and white. Now all he had to do was delve deeper; find the shadows that lurked beneath, and use the light to manipulate them into creations of his own devising.

It would be an interesting game. Hannibal distantly wondered whether he had finally met his match in Will Graham, but surely that could not be the case? It was more likely that Will was simply a more worthy adversary, to play the game of cat and mouse with. After all, what is the fun in winning, if you don't have to strive for it? It makes the trophy all the more sweeter, when you know it was well earned.

He glanced up pointedly at the time, closing his notebook, and setting it aside safely in his desk. It was seven 'O' clock. Annabel Graham was currently twenty seconds late for their meeting.

Hannibal recalled their earlier phone call, a fluttering of polite gestures passed back and forth, until he had _kindly_ agreed to give Agent Graham an audience. She hadn't explained specifically what she wanted from him, but Hannibal had an inkling that her mind may have become centred on her sibling. Will's dabble on the other side of the veil, with Garrett Jacob Hobbs, no doubt would have stirred up old ghosts. Ones Annabel more than likely needed put to rest.

Hannibal was only too happy to oblige.

A loud knock sounded before the clock hand could pass seven, and he privately congratulated her, on her punctuality. He got up from the desk, straightening his jacket more out of habit, than necessity, and smoothly made his way towards the door.

"Annabel." He greeted warmly, remembering her preference for her Christian name, rather than her title. "Please, come in."

She obliged. Nodding her thanks, as she stepped confidently into the room. Hannibal watched her face as it turned upwards, the awe in her eyes, as she took in every magnificent detail of the room's infrastructure. He could see Annabel was fascinated, the sculptures and paintings catching her attention, at every length and corner.

"You have a beautiful office, Dr Lecter." She complimented politely, throwing a gentle smile over her shoulder.

Hannibal returned the gesture, reflexively thanking her, and offering to take her coat. It slide from her shoulders with ease, the navy mac, sending a whisper of her individual scent up into the ether. Hannibal momentarily closed his eyes, his senses over run by the dark essence of forgotten waves, peppered generously by sweetness. He caught himself quickly, however, the small tear in his veil sealed and lost, before the world could see.

Annabel turned, and his mouth lifted.

"Can I tempt you in a glass of wine?" He offered, hanging up her coat, and heading for the decanter he had set up earlier. "Unless of course you're still on duty?"

"Wine would be very welcome, actually." She replied tiredly, contently watching him pour out the dark velvet liquid. She took the glass with a shared clink. "French?"

"Californian." Hannibal corrected softly, eagerly taking in the ambrosia. "A very underrated vintage. Can you guess the year?"

Annabel narrowed her eyes, her deep sapphire wells holding a playful glint, he was slowly becoming accustomed to. She tilted her head. "You expect too much of my pallet."

"Indulge me."

She sighed, pressing the glass to her lips, and delicately sipping at the nectar. She made an approving noise, closing her eyes, as she enjoyed the warmth that hit the back of her throat. She caught his gaze.

"1978."

Hannibal frowned, pushed off guard by her unexpected accuracy. "The year from a single sip, yet the origination escapes you?" He noted doubtfully, a hint of amusement spilling from his tongue.

Annabel laughed. "I find your obvious suspicion ever so slightly insulting, doctor." She teased lightly, heading back gradually for the comfy looking sofa. "Rightly placed suspicion of course, but insulting none the less." She grinned, dropping happily into the cushions. She peeked up innocently. "I spied the bottle on the sideboard."

Hannibal looked behind him. Where on the other side of the room, was where he had left the used empty bottle. _He_ had almost forgotten it was there, apparently it wasn't as oblivious to the naked eye, as he'd thought.

"Well observed." He congratulated.

"Wouldn't be much of an Agent, if I let a little thing like that, slip me by."

"I doubt that much ever slips you by."

"Not really." She confessed modestly, shifting subtly in her seat. "It's kind of annoying, actually."

Hannibal perched himself beside her, a polite distance set, and place his glass down gently on the coffee table.

"To see what others do not, can often be deemed both a gift and a curse." He agreed quietly, his dark gaze naturally meeting hers.

Annabel took another sip of her wine. "Something like that."

"It is a burden, similar to that of your brother's." Hannibal continued. Watching her patiently, as she carefully placed her own glass next to his.

"Oh no." She began pointedly. "Will is in a league, entirely of his own. I would not wish _his_ burdens on anyone."

"He sees pass the very fabric of our realities, and straight into the shadows where our nightmares live." Hannibal paused, reflecting back on his words, as if the full weight of them was only just pressing on him. "It is difficult to imagine what he must feel, seeing the world as he does. "

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." She said, picking out her thoughts heedfully.

Annabel hesitated, clearly wondering whether their conversation was a path she truly wanted to venture down. She pushed her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit Hannibal had noticed from their short time working together, and he gazed at her intently.

"You worry for your brother. It is perfectly natural to seek guidance from a third party that is close to the situation."

Hannibal hoped his words would urge her on, he was curious to hear what she thought of the 'Minnesota Shrike' case, and of Will's involvement in Garret Jacobs Hobbs' death. Her _true_ thoughts, that is, not the ones she had displayed oh-so creatively for Jack Crawford.

"Will won't talk to me about what happened back at the Hobbs' house." She voiced, her words a rush of anxiety. "I try to get through to him, but every time I get close to an actual answer, he side steps me with jokes or indifference. How am I supposed to look out for him, if I don't know whats going on inside his head?"

Annabel smoothly whipped her glass back off the table, and the liquid soon disappeared from sight. Clearly the subject bothered her more, than she cared to let on, and this once again called to Hannibal's curiosity.

"Maybe you should trust young Will to care for himself?" He offered boldly, watching her reaction. She said nothing, and he continued. "You trouble yourself with his well being, his ability to live right by himself, yet you do not allow the opportunity to ease your worries."

Annabel frowned, her forehead crinkling prettily, as she stared unseeing into her empty glass. Eventually she spoke.

"I can't trust Will to take care of himself, not when I know Jack is pulling his strings."

Hannibal tilted his head. "You have trust issues concerning Jack Crawford?"

"Something like that." She scoffed darkly, a strained smile forcing it's way onto her pale features. She replaced her wine glass on the table. "Jack has a habit, of putting people on the front line, before they're ready. Anything, as long as he gets the results that he wants."

"He is a driven man." Hannibal agreed.

"You flatter him, doctor." Her face became cold suddenly, and her eyes misted over, as if remembering a memory she had long wished to forget. She shook the feeling off quickly, however, and her characteristic warmth rippled abruptly over her. A drowning woman, breaking through the icy surface. "But I didn't come here to talk about, Jack."

"My contribution to a subject of Will, can only be limited, I'm afraid." He began dutifully, taking note of every gesture, action, that presented itself in Annabel Graham. "I am bound by doctor/patient, confidentiality."

"I know, I know." She sighed, burying her face heavily in her hands. She sat up just as quickly. "Please. Just tell me whether I need to worry or not? How close to the edge is he?"

"He is as close, as he should ever be. Though in many ways, he has already fallen."

"No." She interjected firmly. "I won't let him fall. Not again."

Hannibal nodded. The young woman in front of him was a complex creature, this was what he was slowly coming to realise. Like him, Annabel Graham had many faces she showed the world, and like him, she to often felt the weight of their burden. Her fingers found their way into her hair again, and he noticed the anxiousness of which they twisted, and pulled. This was not the overly confident woman, that had stepped across his door way. This was the being that laid beneath that mask, the raw skin of the child that hide herself under years of expectations.

So many layers, Hannibal could see them stretched out in front of him now, blatant and bare, ready to be stripped back and away. The secret of her unveiled. The itch that needed to be scratched.

Annabel was a lamb without a shepherd, but she had heart, and the strength to hide her weaknesses. He would enjoy testing the foundations of that fortress, and strangely he found himself hoping they would not crumble too soon.

***Please R&R! Pretty please, with a cherry on top? I'm fishing for guidance, not compliments.**

**Jasper Blood, thank you so much!**

**~ LM**


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